Confessions Of An Insomniac
by The Illustrious Crackpot
Summary: I know it's an EXTREMELY well guarded secret, but Nny isn't the easiest person to talk to. Especially not like this.


_A/N: Very short, rather strange, and, to quote Jhonen Vasquez, "with only a touch of self-mockery."_

_And, just so you know...the narrator is female. Nobody from the canon Vasquez universe, just some female-type-narrator character. And the parenthetical phrases are my pathetic attempt to emulate the ridiculously witty "side remarks" you often see floating at the edges of Vasquez's panels. The lyrics that spontaneously pop up in there are from the Barenaked Ladies song "I Can I Will I Do". Not one of my favorites, but it fits._

_Anyways, here we go..._

**Confessions Of An Insomniac**

(The Illustrious Crackpot)

There he was—or, at least, I was pretty sure it was him. Tall and thin, thin to the point where he looked undernourished, and those high black boots with steel tips. He was just sitting there, perched delicately on a wooden fence overlooking a small cliff, staring up into the bleak night sky.

I cleared my throat, stepping forward hesitantly. "Umm..."

He snapped around immediately, eyes startlingly wide and white in the darkness. I couldn't help but jump backwards, heart leaping into my throat.

He said nothing, just _looked_.

(DAMN that's creepy.)

"Uhhh..." I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly, my heart racing. (The corniest of corny old phrases. I think I'll tie myself to a rack for it later.) "Ummm...um um...Johnny?"

His shoulders tensed slightly.

"...Yes?"

I sighed a little, and it came out choppy. "Oh...oh, good, that _is_ your name." (This brilliant dialogue was brought to you by the masterminds at Crackpotco™. Service you can trust.) "I, um, um, that is..."

Johnny just glared at me, unmoving.

"...You really hate the human race, don't you?" I finally finished lamely.

The question seemed to surprise him a little, but it looked like it also put him on edge. He turned away, to look back at the sky, but only after twitching a menacing eyebrow in my direction. "I don't see why it should be any concern of yours," he replied, his voice low and a bit raspy. "But yes, I do. And—since you seem to know so much about me, I assume you already know this fact—that's why I cut so many people up. Oh yeah, _AND_ because I like to see them bleed. That's always fun."

I nodded dumbly, then realized that, since he wasn't looking at me, he probably wouldn't see it. (Intelligence, kiddies—the thing to have!)

"...They all deserve it."

Now Johnny's gaze was back on me, though it was more inquisitive than threatening this time. "You agree, then. Humans are vile things, wriggling about in their individual slimes without regard to anyone or anything else. ...And yet, ironically, I am the _embodiment_ of that." He paused, then looked back out at the sky again. "If you agree, then why are you speaking with me? Why linger with a being who represents everything that you dislike? ...I don't have any Cheez Nips."

I gulped again, heat rushing to my face as much as I tried to keep it out. It was now or never...if I didn't do it now, I would never have the chance again.

"The truth is...Johnny..."

"_Nny_."

"Nny," I corrected, trying to compose all of my thoughts. "Nny...I've been kind of 'watching' you for a while. You know, all of those seemingly unrelated massacres on the news...killings and disappearances that appeared to be totally random...I realized that it all had to be the same person. And, really, the only motive that one person could possibly have, since most of the people and places that were attacked had nothing to do with each other...the motive had to be an innate distaste for humankind."

His silence prompted me to continue.

I looked down at my feet, shoulders raising slightly. "...I've never liked people myself. Everybody's always telling you something you have to do, regardless of what impact it has on anything. Money isn't 'real', and neither is 'society'—they're things that humans decided to believe in, and are at the point where, if an individual doesn't share those beliefs, the individual will be disciplined or even locked away."

My voice began to break, and my hands quivered, and I felt like I could very possibly start to cry. "But _you_, Johnny...you _understood_ this, and you fought against it. That was something that I never felt that I could do...I hadn't thought _anyone_ could do it. But _you_ did." Gingerly, I reached into my pants pocket and extracted a small pocket razor, which he surveyed with quiet interest as my composure melted away. "Johnny..._Nny_...you _saved_ me. I was seriously going to k—to _kill_ myself u-until I found out about _you_ and realized that I wasn't—wasn't _alone_..."

Suddenly I couldn't bear to hold the razor anymore, and I dropped it on the ground. Seeming unconscious of the action, Johnny stooped and picked it up, looking it over critically before casting that strangely piercing gaze back into my eyes. "...What are you saying?"

(Barenaked Ladies lyrics from nowhere!)

_You don't think I can love you_

_You don't think I can love you_

_You don't think I can love you_

_But I can_

_And I will_

_And I do_

"Nny..." I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself for the hardest sentence that would ever have to pass my lips. "Nny, I think I...think I lo..."

* * *

I was in darkness. Damn, it was _dark_. Dark like the dark of a darky dark thing, not _just_ plain old dark.

"_What is it this time?"_ some random voice asked from the deepy dark darkness.

"'_Nother one for you,"_ replied some other random voice. (YAY FOR RANDOMNESS!)

The first random voice sighed. _"Cause of death?"_

"_A homicidal maniac stabbed her with her own razor."_

"_...Ah."_

—End!


End file.
